Ancient Ennui
by Kore Anesidora
Summary: A citrus-y one-shot, as requested by a friend. MarcelinexBubblegum. Bubbeline. Ye be warned: there be nothing of substance here. Only sugary, smutty goodness. All puns most definitely intended.


** Salvete, omnes!**

** Well, a good friend of mine requested that I write a smutty one-shot. More specifically, one that was light-hearted, since apparently everything I write is angsty and depressing. Alas! I'm no good at this fluffy stuff, rife with flowers and glitter and sunshine. Sunshine? You mean that bright substance that burns us whensoever we leave our cave? Ewww...**

** Which is why, partly out of spite, I've decided to write an Adventure Time Bubbeline fic for this request. No sunlight for Marceline. Nope. None indeed. But there'll still be fluff and candy floss and enough sugary, smutty goodness to make any self-respecting person feel the sudden overwhelming urge to vomit into the nearest receptacle, and then make a mad dash for a dentist. Consider yourselves forewarned, my beloved readers. Cavaties and other tooth-rot are imminent upon yon horizon. **

** Not that I'm complaining, of course. It is always an excellent exercise to endeavor to compose smut without the appearance of outright vulgarity. Aww, who the hell am I kidding? **_**Everybody **_**loves lemons every now and then. And if they don't, then I'm going to have my engineers turn those lemons into COMBUSTIBLE GRENADES, at which point I will proceed to **_**burn life's house down.**_

** Wait...That sounds familiar...**

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Adventure Time is not mine.**

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Pastels. Everywhere she looked, pastels.

Oh, the horror.

Marceline the Vampire Queen had always been one for dark, sombre colours. Reds and blacks and greens and blues. Royal colours. Upon occasion she would don a wide-brimmed hat the colour of thatch and long creamy gloves to cover her delicate skin from the sun, but that was as close as she got. Even white was all fine and dandy, if used sparingly in her attire. She had always found her choice of colour to be perfectly sensible, even if she did go off the deep end a bit in her perennial quest for the ultimate "coolness factor," so to speak - for example, shaving half of her head. But other than that! A perfectly sensible, adequate wardrobe. Even for one of royal descent.

So, why did she have to be attracted to a person, whose color palette never strayed from the path of Easter eggs and portraits of sunny Springs, with animals frolicking about in blissful abandon?

Perhaps she was a masochist. That was the only possible explanation that still retained a modicum of logical sense.

Huffing out a sigh, Marceline brushed back a long lock of hair that fell across her face, brushing her cheeks. Floating just above waist-level, she watched the princess as she worked. They were in Bonnibel's lab, a place mercifully with fewer pastels than the princess' room. A very small mercy. Currently, the princess in question was measuring liquids into various graduated cylinders, measuring precisely, observing, taking notes. Marceline did not even know why she was here. She was not playing her bass, though she had plucked idly at the strings about twenty minutes ago, only to soon lose interest and return to simply staring at Bubblegum, leaning the bass against a stray cabinet nearby. Somehow, she was calmed by Bubblegum's presence, and she found herself, like she had so many times before, arrested by the princess' every feature - from her hands that dipped and darted and drifted like those of a conductor, to the furrows in her brow that she wore when she was in her thinking place, lost in the deep recesses of her own mind. The princess in question did not seem the mind the staring. She did not even acknowledge Marceline's presence. She merely continued working, on and on, oblivious to her surroundings.

Something in Marceline's chest constricted then as she watched Bonnibel work. Slowly, she let out a breath in order to steady herself.

She could look beyond all the pastels and the pinks - oh, lord. So much _pink_ - simply because of Bonnibel's _herness_. It wasn't something she could easily describe. But there was something about this girl made of brightly coloured candy that dragged Marceline back every time, reeled in like a fish lured onto a hook. It resided in the way she moved. The way her teeth caught her lower lip when she was concentrating. The way her fingers would trace over her palms in an absentminded gesture. The way her gaze would sometimes quirk with mischief. The way her mouth curled at the corners when reading something she thought funny. The way she would fume when something didn't go her way, stomping around her room and ranting to nobody in particular, while Marceline just cocked her head and listened. The way she snuggled deeper into the blankets of her bed when she slept, and the peaceful repose that cast across her features then like a soft shadow.

Princess Bubblegum had a hard shiny exterior, like a lacquered mask she fixed in place every morning in order to attend to her duties, but beneath the facade was a passionate being, tempestuous as the annual storms that tore through the Nightosphere, blazing a fiery path through the hellish lands. The princess was undoubtedly very much alive, full of life, brimming with all the fury of living, a zeal barely contained beneath the surface of a cool unruffled pond lying in a shady glen. Every so often, the mask would slip, and Bubblegum's true nature would be revealed for any and all to see; the effect was staggering. Marceline did not think she would ever tire of viewing all the many facets of Bonnibel's persona, incrementally revealed to her day by day, year by year.

However, she hated being clingy and appearing needy. She had lived over a millennium. Her disdain of the world and its mortal inhabitants should have clutched her through and through, like a tree strangled by leafy mistletoe. However, she only felt the sorrow more keenly, a kind of acidic melancholy that nursed in her breast, a black malignant growth threatening to tear her up inside. Sometimes, though. Sometimes she felt something else. A sort of inexplicable feeling she never dared reveal existed, least of all to herself. It was hope, tinged with hues of contentment, happiness even. The feeling remained transient, an echo teasing at the very corner of her vision, only to vanish when she turned her head. Every so often, it would return in full force, flooding her with its threading charge, a cavalric flight winging across the grassy plains. It came at unexpected moments. When she caught the scent of sunlight lingering upon the horizon at dusk. When she looked at Bonnibel...

That clenching in her chest came sweeping back then. Eyes narrowing slightly, Marceline took it upon herself to act in an attempt to make the feeling last. Or perhaps to make it leave once more. She couldn't tell. Sometimes she doubted if the feeling was worth the many anxieties it inevitably sparked. This time, though, this time she did not want it to glide away, to slowly slip between her fingers like dry grains of sand, fine and insoluble.

And what good was this feeling if the person, who was the impetus behind it, was utterly absorbed in something else?

Drifting closer to Bubblegum, Marceline toyed with the idea of simply placing her hands on Bonnibel's shoulders and turning her around, a more direct approach. Instead, she resigned herself to just talking to get the princess' attention.

"Don't you ever get tired of all these tonics and phials and...What on earth is _this_ supposed to be anyway?" Marceline, one eyebrow quirked in a query, lifted up an Erlenmeyer flask filled with a completely clear liquid, "Is this..." she took a hesitant sniff, "..._water_?"

Princess Bubblegum glanced up only long enough to assess what Marceline was talking about, before returning to her work with a simple, "That's hydrochloric acid. Don't breathe in too deeply. You might singe your nose hairs."

Scowling-and slightly pouting, though she would never admit that-Marceline put the flask down, the glass clinking on the hard surface of the high table. Perhaps she had put it down a bit too harshly. Childish of her, she knew, but even ancient beings such as herself were prone to fall back into their childish proclivities.  
The feeling in her chest had leapt, when Bubblegum had spoken, her voice clear, soft yet commanding, the kind of voice royalty was supposed to have. She could not let Bubblegum retreat back into her cerebral realm now, not when that damnable feeling was so insistent now, pressing, welling up inside of her like an inflatable balloon or perhaps a flooded river, previously naught more than a barren bank.

And so she flipped upside down in the air and tugged lightly on the candy girl's sleeve, "Bonni," she whined, "why can't we do something fun?"

The princess shot her an irritated look, "I'm busy, Marceline." She shook the vampire's grip from her sleeve and turned back to her lined notebook, already chock-full of neat notes.

But Marceline was not deterred, "Come on," she wheedled, lying in the air horizontally now, playing with a lock of Bubblegum's pink hair, which had been pulled back into a messy bun, winding it around her fingers, savouring the somewhat tacky feel of it, viscous as molasses and just as saccharine.

"Can't you see I'm working?" Bubblegum snipped, tilting her head forward to pull her hair away from Marceline.

"Can't you see I'm bored?" Marceline retorted.

"Then go find somebody else to pester with your ennui."

The vampire queen leaned closer and swept aside the stray locks of Bubblegum's hair, so as to brush her fingertips across the back of that slender neck, "Come on, Bonni," she repeated in a soft whisper, almost hoarse, "Your work can wait."

The princess pushed her away, turning to glare fiercely at the one she viewed as invading her precious time, "I have already been waiting. I have been wanting to conduct this experiment for _weeks_. My work is important!" Bonnibel exclaimed, "I strive for the betterment of knowledge!"

"The betterment of knowledge? Like the time your important work turned into a zombie-candy fiasco?" Marceline responded dryly.

"You -! You -! Oooooohhh!" At a loss for comprehensible words, Bonnibel just glowered and stamped her foot, so consumed with unutterable rage that her arms shook.

Instead of further continuing the confrontation, though, Bubblegum whirled back around and resumed her work. Her teeth were still clenched, the muscles of her jaw twitching. Marceline did not press her; she merely watched with eyes smouldering yet somehow doe-like at the rejection. This time around, however, Bubblegum could not ignore those red eyes burning like coals into her back. The princess shifted, feeling an itch between her shoulder blades. She tried concentrating on her work, but every time she got close to an answer, her mind kept being tugged back to Marceline, hovering nearby, insistent as two rare-earth magnets cinched together. Over the next few minutes, time ticking oh so painfully slowly by, she felt the irritation building within her, irrational though it may be. Marceline was no longer pestering her, but couldn't she _look away_?

Cursing to herself, Bubblegum threw down her pen onto her notebook, ink splattering across the impeccably kempt pages in broad blots, and she stomped out, hands clenched into fists at her side. Marceline watched her go, feeling the force behind her vying for Bonnibel's attention rush out of her, swift as white rapids. The feeling was fading again, just as the sun slipped down through the sky, drenching the lands in long shadows. Her shoulders sagged and she slowly floated after Bubblegum, who had already stormed into her room down the hall.

Well, that plan had backfired.

Approaching the door leading to the princess' personal chambers, Marceline knocked once, twice, then went in when she did not hear Bubblegum's voice. Upon entering the room, Marceline saw that Bubblegum's back was to her, and she was mumbling coarsely to herself as she unbuttoned her lab coat, then hurled it into a nearby wall with a low grunt and a huff of irritation. Marceline glided forward, hesitant to draw too close lest she anger her further.

For a moment, she remained silent, gut twisting and wrenching, until finally she sighed, mumbling, "Sorry, Bonni. I didn't-Sorry." Dejected, she floated over to the window, ready to leave, "I'll see you later, I guess."  
Before she could even reach for the latch that opened the window, though, she felt something on her forearm, gently holding her back. Blinking in surprise, she peered over her shoulder to see Bubblegum standing there, directly behind her, chin lowered, eyes looking anywhere but at the vampire queen, jaw still clenched with the residues of anger, the iron tang of it still upon the princess' tongue.

"Don't go," she gritted out from between her teeth. When Marceline opened her mouth to speak, however, she held up her hand and breathed deeply, "Don't say anything. I'll just get angry again. But...don't go. Give me a moment, alright?"

Letting go of Marceline's arm, Bubblegum strode over to her bed and flopped gracelessly down upon it, sprawled there in a most un-regal manner, skirts billowing around her legs as she fell, crown tilting awry when her head made contact with the mattress. She tugged it off and tossed it onto the bed-side counter. Keeping silent, Marceline dared to hover over to the bed from the window. The princess said not a word when Marceline floated above the mattress just beside her. They lay like that for a few moments, saying nothing, as Bubblegum visibly relaxed, her muscles going slack, the fire dimming in her eyes, jaw loosening. Eventually, she looked over at Marceline hovering nearby and gave a small smile, "Get down here, silly."

At the request, Marceline drifted down to the sheets to land lightly beside the princess, their arms brushing together, a smooth contact, gingerly delivered. Bonnibel propped herself up on her side, her cheek resting upon one arm, while with the other arm she reached out and traced the line from the vampire's wrist to her thumb and back again, the tips of her fingers ghosting over the skin there. Marceline shivered. Without looking up, Bubblegum murmured weakly, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

"Mmm," Marceline hummed in reply, "I'm sorry I messed up your experiment."

But Bonnibel simply shook her head, "Don't worry about it. I can start again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, huh? You don't want to go back to it now?" Marceline teased gently.

"Nah. Not in the mood anymore," the princess shuffled closer and meekly nudged Marceline's shoulder with her nose.

In spite of herself, the vampire queen drew a sharp breath. It was an automatic reaction, even though she had not needed to breathe for years. Bonnibel continued to nuzzle, moving up from shoulder to just at the base of her neck. Marceline could feel the soft breaths sweeping over her collarbone, and could smell the sweet scent of sugar, light, almost effervescent, like a fizzy drink, "Then what _are_ you in the mood for?" Marceline queried coyly, unable to resist the opportunity to prod even when it had gotten her in trouble not moments before in the lab.

Instead of being vexed again, though, Bubblegum looked up from beneath lowered lashes and grinned a vixen smirk. Upon seeing those features brighten with that impish look, Marceline could not help but tightly grip the pink hand that was still stroking hers with feather-light touches, her look, unknown to herself, grown in intensity, suddenly aglow, washing Bubblegum's cheeks with a reddish light. The princess seemed startled at Marceline's reaction, and her bemusement only grew when Marceline was suddenly looming over her, crouched on all fours, her weight fully resting upon the bed, her sharp knees hollowing depressions in the mattress. Her hair fell across her shoulders and back, some strands spilling onto the sheets and coiling there like living things.

"You're so beautiful when you smile," she whispered thickly, her words cut off as she swallowed and looked away, embarrassed by her own words, so syrupy were they. She almost could not believe they had come from herself. She. The dread Vampire Queen, whose father ruled the Nightosphere with a cruel adamantine fist.

The astonishment faded from Bubblegum's face then, and she smiled, her lips curling up at the corners, just as Marceline remembered them doing; it was Bonnibel's special smile, a smile reserved only for her. The raw mortification was worth it for that smile and that smile alone. Reaching to cup pale grey cheeks, Bubblegum leaned up, brushing the bridge of her nose against Marceline's, their brows whispering against one another, and Marceline's eyelids fluttered shut as Bubblegum's mouth met hers, delicate and fleeting, transient and ephemeral as the dawn.

The feeling was back now, returned saturated and profuse, too wondrous to be real, too precious to deny.

Pressing her lips against those yielding below, more insistent, Marceline felt Bonnibel's arms wind around her neck as she pushed her down into the mattress, trying to be as close as possible to the one beneath her; she could not seem to get close enough despite her efforts. Bonnibel's mouth opened faintly when she released a subtle exhalation, and Marceline's tongue snaked along her lower lip before delving inside. Hands curled in her long mane of dark hair, pulling her closer. Hips chafed. Stomachs grazed. Marceline's hands wandered absently, caressing with palms, pressing nimbly with digits.

At some point, her right hand worked its way beneath a white shirt, and Bonnibel's breath caught in her throat. It was so small a sound, yet it managed to drive Marceline to distraction. Her hand lingered at the hem, fingertips stroking the skin there, reveling in the velveteen sensation. The princess seemed able to breathe freely again, when Marceline started pushing the shirt up. It was suddenly very important for her to feel Bonnibel, to make her squirm and writhe and gasp. She could not say why, only that it was most _urgent_.

Her fingernails gently scraped beneath Bubblegum's breasts. In response, Bonnibel arched upwards slightly, muscles tightening, supply sliding, along her abdomen, giving Marceline enough space to reach behind her and fumble momentarily with the clasp there. After a moment's resistance, the clasp came undone. Without needing to be told, Bonnibel sat up and discarded her shirt and bra, tossing them aside to the floor before reaching over to pull Marceline to her, small hands ducking under Marceline's own shirt and tugging upwards, urging it off as she all but panted, the sound like strong gusts of wind over cliffs, her breath careening over the skin of Marceline's sensitive ears. The red shirt now also lying on the ground, Bubblegum ran her lips over the ridge of Marceline's ear, their cheeks skimming against one another. Marceline's hands clenched at the space just above the gentle swell of Bonnibel's hips and below her ribs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh there.

She allowed the princess to nibble on her ear for only a short moment before she pushed her back down onto the bed, so that they lay prone there, one atop the other. Bonnibel was not to be deterred, however, for she merely took this chance to move her mouth from Marceline's jaw to her neck, tongue peeking out to run its course between tendon and artery. The vampire queen felt a quiver slice through her body, almost like a frisson, except laced with heat. With a growl, she lowered her head to Bonnibel's waiting breasts, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. Bubblegum's own actions slowed, then stopped. Her head dropped back to the mattress with a muffled thump as Marceline mouthed across sensitive skin, nipping and suckling, running her sharp teeth along, agile tongue darting out to lap and swirl and tease.

Always such a terrible tease.

It was not until Bonnibel was twisting and jerking at every movement that Marceline deemed the moment suitable to forge ahead. She traveled down Bubblegum's body, nuzzling the hollows of her hips just above the waistband of her skirt, reaching a sharp peak of the hip bone, which she then proceeded to lightly bite, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make Bubblegum gasp and jerk her hips. At this, Marceline grinned into the fluid expanse of skin at Bonnibel's navel, like distant plains of downy grasses bearing the scent of a candied sunrise. Abruptly, Marceline sat up and turned to relieve the princess of her pink knee-high boots and skirt, until, at last, there was not a stitch of clothing adorning her person.

Oh, and what a person she was, her body lithe and supple, slender and elegant. Marceline had beheld many breathtaking scenes in her time, but few came close to rivaling this stunning sight. A few, perhaps, but she could not presently recall.

Leaning in to kiss Bubblegum thoroughly before attending to her next task-a task she to which she was greatly looking forward-Marceline was forced to pause as a wave of her hair, ink-dark as a curtain of the nocturnal sea, fell into both their faces.

At this, Bubblegum spluttered with laughter, overcome by peals of giggles. On the other hand, Marceline huffed and ran a hand through her hair to no avail.

"Here," Bubblegum chuckled, pulling out her own hair-tie and handing it to her.

Marceline took it, grumbling as she gathered her thick hair back into a loose tail, "That's me, alright: Marceline the Graceful."

Bonnibel laughed, but stopped when a mock glare was thrown in her direction, covering her mouth with her hand in a gesture that could almost be described as prim, "My gallant vampire queen is always so suave."

"Suave, eh?" a wicked grin crossed Marceline's face, "Charming all the ladies and gents across the lands?"  
The grin was returned, Bubblegum's eyes glittering playfully, "Oh, she's a voracious beast at times, I hear."

"Now _that_ I can't deny."

And she descended upon her then, mouths meeting in a sweltering kiss. The princess moaned into her mouth, when Marceline's knee shifted, pressing up and between her legs. A stormy heat rose between them, mirrored on Bubblegum's red-tinged cheeks, the flush trickling to mottle her upper chest and shoulders, until she was positively radiant, refulgent in the low light with a fine sheen of sweat as Marceline slowly moved her thigh just enough to make the princess squirm. Rapt, Marceline watched her face screw up, eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed as though deep in thought, almost as if in pain.

After a few moments of this pleasant torture, Bonnibel whimpered out, voice punctuated with ragged breaths, "Marci...Please-"

At the shades of desperation in her tone, Marceline moved lower, kissing spare ranges of skin as she went. When she arrived at Bubblegum's hips once more, she took her dear sweet time nibbling and kissing around those slim thighs, until hands grasped her head, fingernails digging into her scalp, wordlessly reminding Marceline of her exigent pursuit. Eager to comply, Marceline leaned forward and was immediately rewarded with a hitched gasp. Bonnibel's hips jerked as though an electric jolt had run its current through the muscles of her body. Pants met Marceline's ears and she listened to the separate qualities of them, for they changed according to her own actions. Deep and soothing when she lapped slowly. Thin and thready when her tongue flickered rapidly. The fingers and her hair were another indication, lax at one point, then needy and grasping at another, building until they clutched fist-fulls of dark hair, and Bubblegum was panting, soft groans torn from her, muffled through her clenched teeth.

When she broke, Marceline's tongue slowed its actions, delicately grazing against the tender flesh there only for the satisfaction of seeing the princess' body lurch again and again at each touch. She would have continued, slowly gradually and deliberately building Bubblegum back up again, but said princess gestured weakly for Marceline to stop. Therefore, the vampire queen crawled back up Bonnibel's body and lay atop her, chin resting on Bubblegum's chest, while she watched her recover, still twitching occasionally.

It took a good few minutes for Bubblegum's breathing to return to normal, at which time Marceline grinned up at her, fangs glinting, "Thought I broke you there for a moment."

"So did I," Bonnibel admitted. She beamed at Marceline, before frowning in feigned exasperation, "And why, might I ask, are there still clothes on you? Hmm?"

Though she had been relieved of a shirt, Marceline was still wholly clothed, "Dost mine vulgar raiment offend your august senses, highness?"

Princess Bubblegum gave a false imperious glower, "They do indeed. Dispose of them at once, craven cur."

"_Craven_?" Marceline's hand flew to her chest as though mortally offended, "You wound me, madame!"

Bonnibel giggled, gaze sparkling with mischief, "I intend to do far more than that."

"Ooooooh! I'm trembling in my boots!" Marceline flicked back a lock of hair that had been tugged loose during their exchange just earlier, a scoffing gesture, "though I suppose you want those off as well."

"Oh, no," and suddenly their positions were switched, and Bonnibel's gaze was piercing in intensity, "Leave those on."

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**And with that, I leave you. Hope y'all liked it!**

**-Kore**


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